Penny Jordan Tribute Collection

A duty which no doubt included marriage to a girl of his own kind, Felicia thought wryly.

DESPITE THE laughter at the breakfast table Felicia felt as though a lead weight were attached to her heart. She had barely slept, tossing and turning, almost at one point ready to go to Raschid and tell him that she wanted to leave, but always the thought of his contemptuous indifference held her back, making it impossible for her to confess that he had been right and she wrong.

Zahra had been thrilled with her perfume, and Felicia’s thoughts turned automatically to the unopened bottle in her drawer. One day, when her heart was less tender, she would open it, and the scent would bring back memories of that dusty alley and the feel of Raschid’s hands on her skin.

All night long she had battled with her pride, and at last in the soft pearly light of the false dawn had admitted the truth. She loved Raschid. Only he had the key to awaken her dormant emotions, to draw from her a response she had never thought herself capable of giving. To no other man had she reacted as she did to Raschid. For no other man had her body quivered with deep, aching need, which overcame all her fears of rejection, built up during her lonely childhood. Raschid had the power to make her forget every single consideration but the overpowering need to satisfy the throbbing hunger his touch awoke within her.

Now she could admit that what she had felt for Faisal was merely gratitude for his attention to her. She had accepted his kisses without being stirred by them, thinking her lack of response sprang from some coldness in her nature, but Raschid had proved once and for all that this was not true. With Faisal she had always been passive, content to follow his lead, but in Raschid’s arms she knew a longing to be consumed by the fierce passion of which she knew instinctively he was capable. Those fires would never burn for her. She knew that now, and every instinct for self-preservation warned her to flee before Raschid discovered her vulnerability.

She closed her eyes, her face pale, startled when Nadia asked anxiously if she was all right.

All right! She smiled hollowly. She doubted if she would ever be ‘all right’ again, but since she could not say so she smiled weakly and brushed aside Nadia’s kind concern.

The fortress owned by Saud’s family was a huge pile of stone perched grimly on a rocky outcrop and commanding excellent views of the surrounding countryside—a reminder of the days when his forebears would have lived by preying off unwary travellers or other tribes daring or desperate enough to cross their territory.

Here the old ways still held sway. They drove in under a formidable stone gateway and the women were led to a side entrance, barely discernible. Following Umm Faisal’s example, Felicia removed her slippers as they entered the dark cavernous hallway.

Saud’s mother came forward to greet them. The traditional Arabic welcome and prayers for a long and healthy life were exchanged. The visitors were led to opulent cushions spread about the room, Felicia’s muscles protesting a little as she tried to imitate the grace of the others.

In addition to Saud’s mother there were various aunts and cousins, all of whom had to be introduced to the visitor from England, although Felicia was aware that their real interest was, quite naturally, in Zahra.

It was Nadia who whispered to her that to mention the marriage before it was a fait accompli was to put the ‘evil eye’ upon it, but there was no mistaking the value of the expensive gifts they pressed upon a blushing Zahra.

One of the women, obviously very old, commanded Felicia to come forward.

‘That is Saud’s grandmother,’ Nadia whispered. ‘She has seen six sons die in defence of their country, and even His Highness puts great store by her advice.’

Felicia could well understand why. Despite the simplicity of her clothes, the strangeness of her henna-patterned hands and feet, Felicia knew she was in the presence of great wisdom. Although she spoke very little English, her eyes were shrewd as they assessed Felicia’s slender beauty. She said something in Arabic to Umm Faisal, who responded:

‘She said that you are very like the English girl who married her third cousin—she means Raschid’s grandfather.’

The visit seemed to last for a long time. A maid came round a second time with fresh coffee. Felicia found the ceremony endlessly fascinating. Zahra told her now to shake her coffee cup to signify that she had had sufficient to drink, and she also added the warning that it was considered impolite not to drink at least three of the small cups of the beverage.

Arabs placed great store by hospitality and ritual, as Felicia was coming to learn, and to refuse what was given so graciously could be considered a grave insult.

The visit was obviously a formal one, but when the other ladies rose to leave, Umm Faisal and Zahra were invited to stay on. Nadia touched Felicia’s arm, indicating that she leave with her.

‘Raschid is discussing the final arrangements for Zahra’s dowry; Saud’s mother will want to talk about the wedding, so you and I will walk in the courtyard and let them get on with it.’

It was pleasantly cool in the garden, and Felicia felt her tensed nerves relax for the first time since the previous day.

‘You do not like Raschid, do you?’ Nadia asked shrewdly, out of the blue. ‘I have seen the look in your eyes whenever he is mentioned. What is wrong? Can you not tell me?’

‘He does not approve of my… my relationship with Faisal,’ Felicia admitted, glad of the opportunity to unburden herself. ‘He thinks me a woman of the very worst sort—avaricious, designing…. It is natural for him to want to protect your brother….’

‘But not natural to be so blind,’ Nadia interposed softly. ‘Not Raschid, whose astuteness is fabled within our family. He treats you as he treats no other woman, Felicia. You must know of his English blood? He has learned to guard his heart well, so that it is like an inner courtyard, its beauties revealed only to a privileged few.’

Felicia’s heart ached with the weight of a thousand unshed tears. The delights Nadia’s words painted so vividly were not for her.

‘Raschid has no interest in me, other than an overriding desire for me to return home,’ Felicia told her quietly. ‘And were it not for the fact that if I left now it would spoil some of Zahra’s pleasure in her birthday, I assure you I would already be gone.’

‘Zahra is fond of you,’ Nadia agreed. ‘But as to your presence here, that is as Allah wills it.’

No, it was as Raschid willed it, Felicia thought despairingly. He alone had the power to banish her at will! If only she dared confide in Nadia and beg her help. She still had some of her savings left. Perhaps if she could borrow her fare from Nadia she could repay it within a few months if she was really careful with her budget. She started to speak, but Nadia stopped her. ‘Quickly!’ she urged. ‘We must return to the harem.’

She whisked Felicia inside so quickly that she barely had time to comprehend what was happening, before Nadia was pulling her veil across her face and hurrying her away.

In the distance she caught the sound of male voices, footsteps ringing across the courtyard they had so recently vacated.

‘That was a close call!’ Nadia breathed. ‘Living away from home I tend to be less strict with myself, but it would have shamed Raschid before Saud’s father had we been discovered in the garden. Achmed would have been furious with me.’ She made a small moue. ‘Fortunately I heard them coming in time. I’m trying to persuade Raschid to take us all out hawking. It used to be his favourite pastime, and his falcons are a sight to behold. It will be the last time we are all together as a family before Zahra marries, and it seems fitting that we should revert to the freedom of our childhood years, if only for a few hours.’

‘In that case you won’t want me along,’ Felicia began, but Nadia swept her protests aside.

‘Of course we shall want you.’ She bent forward and kissed Felicia’s cheek. ‘You are a delight to us all, Felicia, and far too unassuming, although I hope Zahra does not speak the truth when she says that you may marry Faisal. Although he is my brother, I have to admit that he is weak, too changeable in his ways to make a good husband. Not like my Achmed.’ She glanced speculatively at Felicia. ‘You know, in a way I am surprised that you do not get on well with Raschid. He has always been a great admirer of beauty, and you have much of that. Also your manner cannot help but please; you are of his religion.’

‘Liking does not come from any of those things,’ Felicia said shakily, trying to stem the flood of longing Nadia’s words had aroused. ‘It comes from the heart, and Raschid’s heart is closed to me.’ This was her chance to beg Nadia for her aid, but she was too shy to ask, and by the time they had returned to the others it was too late.

Later, she was to regret her weakness, but when they joined the rest of their party, her own worries subsided in the general excitement over Zahra’s wedding.

It was late when they started back. Somehow or other Felicia found herself travelling with Raschid, sitting in the front seat while Umm Faisal and Zahra occupied the back.

He was concentrating on the road, a barren landscape in black and silver, and she stole a glance at his remote profile, swept by a wave of love. Where on earth Nadia had got the idea that he could feel anything but disdainful contempt for her, Felicia could not imagine. She sighed, letting weary eyelids drop over aching eyes.

The land had already cast its timeless spell over her, and the man…. She looked again at his shadowed profile. His head turned and their eyes met, pleasure and pain mingled as another fierce wave of longing swamped her.

At last she had given her feelings their rightful name—she loved Raschid, against all the odds, in spite of the unbridgable gulfs of background and upbringing that yawned between them, she loved him.

She sighed as tiredness drained even the ability to think properly. She might as well love the sun or the moon. Her eyes closed and opened as she struggled against waves of exhaustion. At her side Raschid turned and frowned.

‘It has been a long day for you, Miss Gordon. My sister and Zahra are both sleeping. Feel free to join them if you wish. We have a good hour’s journey in front of us.’

They were following Achmed and Nadia, and as he spoke the powerful headlights of the Mercedes picked out the car in front quite clearly—and its occupants, Nadia’s dark head cradled on Achmed’s shoulder. An aching longing so intense that it was almost a physical pain hit her. She longed to cry out against it, stifling it, but the sound was trapped in her throat. She fought to subdue the urge to move closer to Raschid, to place her head on his shoulder and know she would not be rebuffed.

Pride alone kept her upright in her seat, her eyes sliding away from Nadia and Achmed, but it was Raschid who said curtly:

‘You’re practically falling asleep sitting up, Miss Gordon. If pride prevents you from using my shoulder as a pillow, try telling yourself that very soon I shall be your uncle and capable of commanding your obedience. I know you detest me, but this road is very uneven in parts. If you fall asleep as you are you could easily be thrown against a window or do yourself some other injury, so let common sense take the place of pride and accept my offer in the spirit in which it is given.’

What could she do? Even so, she had not expected his arm to curve round her, pulling her against the warmth of his body, and in response to her unvoiced question he said curtly:

‘I am perfectly able to drive with one hand—this is not a busy road, and I am not a young fool intent on showing off. Try to relax, I do not intend to harm you.’

But he was, whether he intended it or not. Merely the pressure of his body as he changed gear, the warm male smell of his flesh, harmed her irreparably as her heart wept for the unattainability of its one desire. She drew a steady breath and instantly her nostrils were full of the masculine odour of his body. She closed her eyes, but with his hard shoulder beneath her cheek, it was impossible to banish the tormenting image of his mouth, its well cut lines as well known to her as the softer shape of her own.

She fought against sleep as long as she could, not wanting it to steal from her these precious moments when Raschid gave his strength unstintingly, but the warmth of his body made her drowsy and her tormented senses were not proof against the smothering waves of sleep. Her body relaxed, her head falling against his shoulder. His arm tightened, holding her steady, as they drove into the endless night of the desert.

Felicia had no clear recollection of their arrival. Sleepy and bemused, she stumbled from the car, and Raschid’s strong arm caught her as she fell.

She thanked him, returning awareness making her desperate to avoid the sharpness of his eyes.